


Beyond All Measure

by kerning



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Constitutional Monarchy, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Original Character(s), Political Alliances, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pregnancy, Trans Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerning/pseuds/kerning
Summary: “No, carry on as you were. I like it.” And then Dedue hid his burgeoning expression, the column of his neck a clarion call where he kissed its mantle, the fabric skin-warm. “I love you.” In the language of Duscur, open and soft, were his affections in kind, were the better of distractions, as the sun rose and fell in its turn ever onward.---Moon by moon, Dimitri and Dedue navigate balancing kingdom and family.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5
Collections: Dimidue Big Bang 2021





	1. A New Friend, Garland Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Art by kerning/[maisoncavalier](https://twitter.com/maisoncavalier); beta and graphics by 8bitcu, thanks for sharing your talents, they are so lovely! I am so proud and happy to share this via the Dimidue Big Bang event.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief panic attack mention, beginning and ending within the paragraph "Hollow and cold, his stomach flipped over."

Lashed or gentled rain and not much else of late, as were its season, had graced the stones of Blaiddyd Castle in a steady rhythm broken with all hesitance in the morning. Dappled shadow rested upon Dimitri’s shoulders as he stepped onto the cobbled courtyard path—the cascade of light from the court’s stained glass windows had been no trick of the eye. The weather held. Stark yellow rays filtered behind sluggish cloud cover, a comfortable breeze tempering what warmth accrued by the sun’s vehemence. Summer soon would be upon them in full. Residual damp clung to the greenery, heavy with promise to the beggared plant life.

 _Hellish climbing lilies._ Bright white buds semi-translucent in the sunlight, none could miss their hasty ascent of the trellis, prosperous since their banishment from the main royal greenhouse at Dedue’s behest. Indeed his best half had fought a war eradicating their aggressive march against his manicured garden—though the head gardener might yet still be in the midst of plucking and burning wayward bulbs. Lilies given by the Archbishop himself in friendship, now an unwelcome gift from the church made showpiece by all appearances in the courtyard. Dimitri escaped the full of their sweet fragrance at such a distance as he was, however the cloying waft remained preferable to previous company. All the saints, could nobles inspire the needed vexation for the worst of his headaches.

At his back, beyond the solid door whence he came then several corridors further still, lay the court with all its trappings of gathered nobles, but here, the mantle of king could wait a breath. His skin tingled. The pulse in his skull lessened by the intermittent sun. He lingered under the shadowed alcove as footsteps approached, a light cadence, a most welcome reprieve.

At once, Roah passed into the garden, his tunic hem gathered into a makeshift pocket. For something of great curiosity no doubt. In the whims and fancies of a child, his son’s interests varied in only a week’s course. Dimitri couldn’t guess upon its exact contents. Ah, he’d not been spotted. Unawares, Roah dropped into a crouch at the reflecting pool’s edge, peering into the flat surface oft frozen smooth as looking glass, babbling cool and clear. He dipped a hand beneath the water.

But the question remained—why was he alone? Dimitri couldn’t abide such. Even from afar Roah spoke to himself. It seemed quite serious.

“Do you like it? Is this a good place?” Roah questioned his pocket with singular focus. But at his approach, Roah noticed, greeting him with a steady expression. “Oh, hello, Dad—I mean, Daddy.”

“What have you there?” Gently, Dimitri reminded him yet again it was acceptable for the casual title, though he added silently, the courts were irrelevant, especially outside its confines. Roah nodded as if he understood, but it seemed some rules held their sway. Much like the Blaiddyd crest motif stitched onto his tunic.

The bundle stirred.

“My friend!” Roah said, pride evident as he revealed from the depths of his pocket the biggest and the ugliest toad Dimitri had ever borne witness.

“Ah.”

The toad dangled in Roah’s cupped palms, his movements tipping it into a formal bow. As if in rather cordial greeting, the toad croaked, a deep worrisome sound resonant in the space between them.

Dimitri exchanged bows in good humor, all foolishness dissipated in Roah’s delighted giggle. “Now with the pleasantries aside, Roah,” he began, softening his approach. “For what reason are you and your friend strolling the courtyard alone?”

“Élise said he needed to go back home. Outside, not with me.” Roah cast his intent on the toad contented in his palms. “I already tried Papa’s garden. But I don’t speak frog. So I’m, I’m looking for the best spot!” His brow furrowed. “And he’s not a bother, he eats bugs. I saw him, like this!” And he stuck out his tongue in demonstration.

“I suppose that is so,” Dimitri said, his surprised laughter easy though intent to ask after his minder Élise, who seemed so compelled to abandon him was waylaid by the woman herself.

“Your Highness! There you are!” Red-faced and sweating, Élise blanched after she caught sight of the two of them as she bent into a much winded round of stoop and curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

“Keep a keen eye.” Dimitri crossed his arms. “In the midst of letting this creature away you’ve allowed the same of your charge.”

At this, the toad leapt out of Roah’s hands and escaped to the grounds. His face crumpled but Dimitri held fast to Roah’s shoulder lest he gave chase. A near thing. He patted the round of his shoulder. “He’s made his choice, have heart.” He affixed Élise with a look. “And I’ve not yet decided how swift my own mind.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.” Élise’s composure regained by a small margin at the toad’s departure and some of the steeled mettle returned to her voice. “It shan’t happen again.”

“See that it does not.” Dimitri halted her measures to take him away. “You may collect him from his room for his lessons in an hour.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” She bowed, saying no more in her dismissal.

Roah stood stock-still, lapsed into silence. As if braced for a scolding. When none came however, Roah scanned the grounds, only looking up at his name.

“I know you wanted to give your friend a good home. Now he’s free to find one of his choosing.”

“But how will I visit him?” Roah lamented, hiding his expression with his head held low, hair draped over his forehead gone copper in the sunlight while they crossed the courtyard.

For a moment, Dimitri faltered, how it grieved him in his mislike of Roah shrinking back a half-step in meek disposition. He slowed his own pace until they met in the middle. “Élise is only to look after you in our stead. She cannot do so if you evade her.” The Goddess had never intervened before, why start now? At least, if he say it quick, in Dedue’s absence... “You must be mindful of where you go, especially alone.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Dad.” He plodded forward with the same weary malaise, a small and wizened old man. “I accept my punishment.”

“I am wounded my company is held in such esteemed regard!” Fond, Dimitri ruffled his hair, guiding him inside the hall, where cool shadows relieved the climbing sun at its apex. “Let it be so, then.” Muffled bells pealed the start of twelve. Dedue may have returned from the Duscur quarter by now. “Come along, why don’t you join your Papa and I for tea? I’m quite sure he will be happy to see you.”

Quick was their pace now, and silly as they looked with Roah upon his back, he set him down before the closed doors without care. At the attendant’s word, Dedue indeed present, there came its own reward. While preferring a sitting room where slightly less of his family crest emblazoned on every surface, the hour remained premature for true comforts or privacy. But, he made prize of the attendant’s silence and stole unannounced into the room with Roah.

In this way Dimitri came upon Dedue, his cloak of bone-dry oilcloth draped over a chair, back turned and seated at a table laden with unfurled documents and a tea tray with several cups. Security lest Dimitri chipped any of the fine china, a precaution of late improvement. The rebuff to any of the servants for their insight had yet issued. All the better for their special guest.

At a tug of his half-cloak, Dimitri hurried through his own greeting. “I believe our dignitary of the hour might regale you.”

Roah’s clear silhouette peeking from behind his legs lit Dedue’s face into mock surprise, his quirked smile revealing a rare dimple while Roah settled into his seat.

“He might indeed,” Dedue said, inquiring after his routines.

Tea poured. With frequent pauses for bites of his favourite jam cake, Roah launched into the course of his day. “And now I’m here, Papa,” he concluded.

Save one glaring omission.

Dedue sipped from his teacup. “I am glad for your company.”

“Roah.” Dimitri cleared his throat. “I seem to remember a little boy accompanied only by a toad.” He continued in detail as Roah stopped chewing. “I passed through the courtyard to meet you and he was playing alone.”

“I see.” Dedue affixed Roah with a stern look. “You know better, do you not?”

“Yes, Papa…” Doubly chastised, he sat with his best manners on display, resigned to speak when spoken to and while he’d not enjoy the origins of such refined behavior, he did wish Roah would participate in the conversation. “I won’t do it again.”

“Good.” Dedue’s gaze cast to him, his countenance suggesting a later private discussion. “How was your day?”

“I had a peaceable morning of paperwork for allotting the expected harvests, then an early court over a land dispute.”

Lord Conand of barely landed gentry and little merit at that against the offshoot parishioners of the Western Church over a spit of land. Their quest in order to regain their lost holdings in the dissolution of the Dukedom near stalled for allegations of stealing from the church and hoarding ill-gotten gains. Such petty squabbling need not reach the Archbishop. Nor he for that matter.

“Of course, unsettled mind you. Our dear Lord Conand devolved the proceedings with a riveting preamble of Nouvelle oranges versus Gloucester apples. Masterful distraction. Something about the conquest not as sweet in the rationing of allied spoils, so how could he be at fault for missing his summons. If they saw reason would be a true miracle.” With Gronder languishing to produce a bounty adequate enough to sate more than the former Empire, contempt laced his tone, though he lowered his voice. “Naught has changed in a morning, if it suits. It’s a wonder he mightn’t next employ arms against the Western Church.”

Dedue gave a hum of consideration. “Do you believe he will become a problem?”

Roah took a tentative bite of his cake. “What’s a summons?” Roah talked around his mouthful, his particular interest in all things magical betrayed his eagerness.

“It is when, the accused usually, do not show up at the required and agreed upon meeting place so they are found, fined and escorted to said place.” As Roah nodded with an understanding surpassing the willful ignorance of the peerage, Dimitri could only shake his head. “No, he seems to wish to drag out the entire ordeal until the land goes fallow. The civilians may be content for now. None would see such come the winter moons with empty bellies. How should pride feed them then?”

“One cannot consume such qualities.” Dedue’s teacup laid against its saucer without sound, a marvel of many.

“So I’ve gained little ground.” Dimitri eyed the leaflets nearest Dedue’s empty hand. “And now I am here.” He smiled at Roah who prodded at his plate, gaze unmet for the joke. Ah well.

Before squaring the stack’s corners, Dedue shuffled the more pertinent missive to the fore. An exchange conducted in a lingering handhold, warmth of connection no less dampened by the tingles in his fingertips of an entirely different source.

“In your case, does this bid tidings of joy or trouble?” Curbing his free affections, he rounded the edge of a raised scar before withdrawing, skimming the page. Dedue’s familiar handwriting sporadically issued edits over passages. He read aloud. “The independent commonwealth of Duscur… I will never grow tired of reading that.”

“Nor will I tire writing it.” Dedue said, his own hum of acknowledgment punctuating at regular intervals as he kept reading. “Simply put, those not willing or able to bear a seafaring route, they wish to stay. Under our terms, they require a representative.”

“Two representatives.” One for Duscur proper, another for the Fhirdiad territory. Given voice by all accords, Dimitri mused aloud as Roah asked after the title. “It’s where someone speaks for the community, an advocate for the desires and wishes of the village or district.”

“Like their conscience?”

Roah held a keen ear to his book of bedtime fables after all. “Yes, I suppose...”

“Always so quick, Roah, take pride in that. I know I am.”

Warmed by Dedue’s efforts of praise and how Roah might thrive upon it, Dimitri reread the last paragraph. He gave pause. The passage bore an avoidance of nomination. Telling all on its own, a suspicious amount of redacted text naming a person. “But… you did not concede. You demurred the position.” He looked up sharply. “You are as well-loved as you deserve, if not less so in practice.”

“I cannot be everything.” His cheeks betraying their hue, Dedue refreshed Roah’s cup for want of else. “You can imagine the scandal. I wouldn’t be fit for nomination.” He sighed through his nose. “I will approve their choice as the district’s former lord, nothing more.”

“I suppose I am biased. You are my favourite without compare. It would be an unfair advantage.” Dimitri admitted as he shuffled through the parchment but a true fire lit within him. “These are the next steps. Victory without bloodshed.”

“Let it hold. And may the surrounding districts follow suit.” Dedue replied, his voice turning fond. “Drink your tea.”

He lifted the teacup with all care. The garrison and the church accounted for readily but assuring the other districts offered liaisons of their charges was another matter. In a way, through a singular notion Duscur were the easier portion. Or perhaps it were the capable hands.

“No.” Dedue shook his head. “I did not have to deal with the idle prattle of court.”

“The time will be upon us soon, perhaps the break will have aided Lord Conand’s senses to his conclusion.” Dimitri smoothed his expression and turned his full focus on Roah as his hand tapped his wrist. “Yes?”

“When can I join you and Papa at court?”

“You want to attend court.” Tone flat in repetition, his eye widened in surprise, the words _not for a long time if you wish it_ stricken from his tongue. It was his own wish.

Still, he exchanged a glance with Dedue, whose own face mirrored a subtle worry.

“I think,” Dimitri struggled for reply, all too easy the court’s carrion birds, for how could such people be mistook for anything else when they tore apart the undeserved, Roah mistaken for other than who he was—this bright, kind, vibrant and inquisitive young boy with more promise than such clawed agendas imposed upon him could encompass or fathom. “Not today, darlingest of Roahs.”

Quiet, he nodded in his way, and Dimitri missed their usual back-and-forth for this new silence broken by Dedue.

“I believe someone must practice their penmanship first.” Leaning forward, he made to stand and they followed suit. “Study well today. _I love you.”_ Enveloped in a hug, half-muffled the Duscur dialect tumbled from his son’s mouth in return.

“It’s almost time for your tutor and practicing your letters.” Roah truly did read well at his age, but his handwriting left much to be desired. 

They guided Roah through the castle, whose tread measured into shuffle as they approached his bedroom. Élise stood before the door. “If you keep walking so, you’ll be later still for your lessons. A man must always keep his word, did we not say as much to Élise?” Dimitri knelt before him, out of her earshot. “But if you are one day king then it must go double.”

So his face took on a resignation in an all too familiar fashion but he nodded, pace a bit faster as they regretfully departed.

_Let me give you a better inheritance than this._

* * *

Alone, holed away in the square of his cabinet, Dimitri read by candlelight. The modest hearth burned to embers, a sufficient blend of cold moonlight tracking slow over the stone floor in this casket of a room. Paperwork promised burial of a kind, slower than he liked in its stack to completion. He toiled onward.

For now he set aside the missive from House Rowe, dagger kept for the express purpose snapping the new letter’s seal to join its home beside broken wax fragments lining the edge of his desk. Stiff parchment shushed faint whispers. He inhaled, tallow fat candles imbuing the scent of mutton, and as he read he shrugged deeper into his cloak from the chill. The sun had been strong but not enough to warm the castle’s stone beyond sundown.

A report from House Gautier. _Sreng_ , _negotiation_ swam before his vision and refused align. He reached for a vial. A faint scuttle, scrabbling against the walls. His head pounded and he bore down against distraction. Respite had arrived in how precious the day turned on a whim, rejuvenated by his son’s presence. Always, always Dimitri might beggar more, though the hour promised he surely lay fast asleep, peacefully beyond all care of his bedside narrations. Dimitri tilted his head back, the stopper drained of its draught. One day, he could spare the effort to make story time a nightly ritual. His vision cleared and pressing on to read, his two favourite people never strayed far from his thoughts. Sylvain had advanced his strides in regards to Sreng. To single-minded purpose, despite Sylvain’s words obfuscated by implored insight, he would indulge what deserved merit.

His quill hovered over the fresh parchment, writ in salutations and naught else. Duscur had not been easy. The tumult and heartache, a small miracle no mere letter could recount. Every step forward had mattered and without support—how could he have managed? But Sylvain sought a life quite alone. Well, it couldn’t be helped. He crossed out advice for present council. Sreng could present itself a lifelong endeavor. One Sylvain might welcome by all appearances if a cut and dry letter were sole arbiter. Ah. Where was he again?

A sharp knock interrupted his internal dithering. Dedue hovered in the threshold, a welcome distraction upon distraction.

“It serves I found you here, have you taken dinner.” Tone removed from inquiry, Dedue walked further into the room. Beside him, he thumbed away the telltale residue drying down his cheek.

He huffed. At the merest mention of food Dimitri’s traitorous stomach grumbled, seizing half-formed protest to futility. Dedue would not be moved now. In lieu of submission to truth, for little wonder his thoughts had scattered all due to hunger, his head proved willful. “I must finish this letter to Sylvain.”

“Can it not wait until the morrow?”

Seconds passed in silent conversation. All of Dedue’s countenance impressed lingering until he bid follow.

“A compromise then, I will write,” Dedue conceded, an exchanging of place and the steel-tipped quill bobbed on the tide of his neat, measured script copying his previous efforts then transcription.

And so they did finish, the candles snuffed out and altogether it must have been as a trick when he locked the cabinet behind them. Done for the night before a second wind could gather in its sails. A spell only Dedue could cast.

He scrubbed at his eye, starbursts hovering in the catch of light playing over Dedue’s jaw from the hall sconces. New eye drops were in order. By angles, Dimitri’s mouth pursed.

But Dedue spoke first. “How good of you to be amenable for once.”

“Amenable!” Dimitri repeated in mock outrage, grazing his shoulder. “I am perfectly amenable, and agreeable.”

Dedue affixed him a look clearly meant he might be one of those things. On a good day. And then surprised him all the more. “You can be a very stubborn man.”

He snorted. “I, stubborn—you, who would not call me by my own name?” 

“And somehow you would not let me alone.”

“There was a time when you did.” As they entered the solar Dimitri’s voice mellowed, where bygone melancholy seemed longer still away, wherein he loved Dedue, distant and removed by status and circumstance until its due course changed.

“It was not proper then.” They will keep. In admittance and concession.

“I would.” He was in love with Dedue and would remain so until death. Of all things, this he bid most certain. Hand to heart, Dedue’s dressing gown fabric soft and body-warm to the touch, what length of time could ever suffice for when they stood together not underneath a pall but a veil made for they two. “Never risk that.”

Dedue accepted the invitation for a gentled kiss, Dimitri’s insistent stomach breaking their intertwined embrace.

“What’s for supper?” He glanced at the other place setting, leftover cubed turnips almost artfully scattered. “Hm, I have no disillusions which portion is my own.”

“You normally take convincing.” Dedue said. “I’ve heart this occasion won’t hold.”

“Oh you do know me too well.” He sat down to his bowl of soup, stabbing at the congealed cheese lifting altogether with the spoon and bit a chunk out of the crouton, prodding the layer beneath for the barest wisp of steam. Dedue never broke eye contact, an even match. “Call it leniency for the day.”

In near histrionic expression, his brow arched. “It’s a wonder Lord Conand didn’t deplete these hidden reserves.”

“When we next meet, this Lord will not be allowed such leeway. Fine orator for his pasture as he might be, my patience has run out.” If his next mouthful were a little vicious, Dedue made no comment. “Let the church make haste in their rebuttal.”

“Have grace for small mercies they do.” Dedue drank a deep pull from the goblet which had made its jaunt to his side of the table during the course of their conversation.

“I’m inclined to give the land over without consult but I cannot.” Wholly unsatisfied, Dimitri followed an unsettling road of Conand land, rich in mercenaries who lined their purses by bullying parishioners under guise of their Lord’s brand of fairness. “If only Lord Conand were more like Roah.”

“The world would be a better place indeed.”

“That it would.” He met his husband’s far off smile, lovely and content in equal measure, reflection on their good fortune. “Compassion for the smallest of creatures.” He shook his head. “As much as I wish it, the fear he might make habit running off in haste again worries me.”

“I’ve considered little else.” Dedue dimmed. “To hear you say such a thing… a minder who refuses mind is of no use.” 

“Élise’s effectiveness must be questioned, yes.” He studied the pinch of his brows. “What is it?”

“She lacks the fortitude for a toad—”

“An impressively sized toad.”

“—how might she best any other form of danger?”

He sobered. “She let him alone to the task and lost sight of him completely.”

“She failed in her duty.” Dedue scowled. “Is he allowed ample time to play, that he would stoop to cavorting with toads?”

The greater portion of his heart hurt for neither could rightly answer.

* * *

The wounding heartache ceased to mend, wane of the Garland Moon lent keen awareness for Dimitri counted their handfuls of family interaction especially sacrosanct. By week’s close opportunity arrived in tandem with a messenger from the Duscur district—Dedue must choose their representative. A reasonable walking distance without need for horse-drawn carriage, much to Dedue’s satisfaction, nor full entourage, much to Dedue’s displeasure on behalf of Roah’s accompaniment.

However the hitch in his shoulders eased as they entered an elder’s home in the Duscur residential district. Humble living space cleared for their meeting, there could be no better haven to encourage Roah’s interest in court. Tapestries heavier than the stares cast his way lined the far wall, rich hues contrasting the washed walls. Conversations hummed around the room, a gathering in every corner. Surely each of these people were not vying for the position. Dedue might be here for longer than estimated. And he a moment longer still in the conferral of their additional rights as representative. Roah might learn tedium before negotiation.

It was of little matter. A sun-paled wooden table set low to the ground, near its head an elderly woman whose bright clear laughter belied her age. Her hands were steady as she waved off the grinning man sidled before her in a gesture beckoning them further into the room. “Come in Brother Dedue, and let me introduce you to our contenders.”

“You must be among them, Akani.” Dedue’s smile waned as Akani scoffed. “Why did they not choose you?”

“I’m old.” With a gleam in her eyes, Akani leaned forward. “And I’d rather hear gossip than reports.”

“That is your right. Thank you for allowing us the use of your home.” Dedue bowed, making introductions.

“I find no fault in it,” Dimitri added, taking in the warmth of place brought only by a true home.

“Do you now? Hm, so formal.” Akani said as her gaze skimmed his face, eyes pinched at the corners in passing but as she bent to Roah’s eyelevel her mislike faded. “And who might this be?”

“I’m Roah.” His shy and quiet words satisfied her as Dedue stepped away at the call of another.

“Not oftentimes I have the ear of the king. It is not a position I covet.” Fist under her chin, her bluntness neither cowed nor discouraged so wrapped in a cheerful tone.

“I understand. It is a true shame.” He would have all the more time to spend among people that mattered, that he might listen.

“What might reach your ears and in exchange reach mine…” She watched as Dedue moved with people practically rallying round him as they had done in the war. From afar, a vague familiarity, a former member of his battalion perhaps. All willing to do so again. “For as much as I have seen, they flock to him, a real turnabout for the right hand of the king.” The strand of beads in her hair whispered together as she turned face him, her insightful voice as low. “More than this, is that what belief has become, because you believe in him?”

“Because he believed in me.” The essence of the truth given parity for discretion.

“I see. Rumor beget stranger stories still. I like the wild stories, keeps things interesting.” Akani laughed to herself. “I don’t have to like you but he sees kindness in you, enough for me not to judge. Or divulge.”

“Yes, you have my deep gratitude for that.” Dimitri’s own smile pasted over her disdain. “So many people are present, do they all intend to represent the Duscur district?”

“Most are here for support. I wouldn’t do for such a gathering if all weren’t here engaged.” She nodded, open palms in gesture to two men. “Vega, Karim, I believe we are ready to begin.”

“Let us find a result with all speed.” Most cared little for politicking, more for spectacle, yet this crowd settled as Dimitri guided Roah to the wall-aligned benches. Slid next to him, he sat by his side so unlike the few other fidgety children in the room while Dedue led in traditional Duscur.

“ _As you stand here today, I would like to hear of your intentions as representative, laid bare in the plainest of terms._ ”

Vega and Karim had sat side-by-side at the head of the table with Dedue at its opposite but after a moment Vega stood, giving Karim a salute.

“We are both neighbors, some amongst us named friend. Those of us who wished to build a life here in Faerghus, well, we might lose our way. As we hold vigil for those we’ve lost, let us relight Duscur’s flame unburdened. I swear to, with care in upholding the motherland, ensure our rightful place, our niche here remains undisturbed and taxed fairly— _not to trample on our backs as in an animal afield._ ”

As opposed to people. The specific kind of trampling transparent to Dimitri as Vega went on detailing his hopes for Duscur and its settlement, set his spine straight.

Roah’s hand tapped his wrist and drew him from the wailing mirage. “Papa says Duscur lives on in me and him. And you, you tried your best.” Eyeing Vega, his mouth pursed. “Dad, how can he speak and say nothing?”

Caught off-guard, he coughed into his sleeve to cover his stifled laughter.

Vega paused for breath and Dedue intervened. “And you, Karim?”

Karim shifted, Vega standing aside. “With a strange position on Faerghus land, we have tended to it, found it ours. By Your Grace.” Karim shook his head. “That isn’t your title. I’m not learned in Faerghus titles, but Brother, all glory, all forms of the motherland are a gift.” He laid a palm against Vega’s shoulder then withdrew. “The most important spirit we have lives on in our families. So I swear to listen to your cares, and find a way to live with grace and pride. _Our found and made families are Duscur._ ” His gaze darted to someone beyond Dimitri’s sight and he smiled. “That’s all.”

Karim and Vega waited in expectation but Dedue remained silent for a spell until he pleased break it. “I need to ask of you a few questions.”

Roah had remained well-behaved for the boredom leeching into his frame, so drawn into himself, but now his knees pressed to his chest for resting his cheek against them. The little furrow on his brow an exact replica of Dedue as he appeared in court, unimpressed by noble schemes. Funny how he gleaned his mannerisms.

A boulder Dimitri couldn’t lift settled into his stomach. Gnawing worry for his childhood, much of it unhappy then stolen away by tragedy—he couldn’t abide the same for Roah.

Wisps of Karim’s voice drew him away from those dreary thoughts and Dimitri held no envy for Dedue’s position. Huddled together, Dedue stood a head or more above most and here was no exception with every eye upon him. But in hushed tones, in the end, Dedue chose Karim, and Vega laid his hand upon his shoulder this time, gracious in conceding.

“We are almost done.” He ruffled Roah’s hair.

A girl no more than Roah’s age left her mother’s side, her mother nudging her along. Dimitri quickly rearranged the curls he displaced as the girl approached.

“Hiya.” In a voice scarce over a whisper she introduced herself as Niah. “Do you want to play?”

“Can I, Dad?” Roah looked back at him. “Please?”

“I do not see why not.”

He bid suggest their new minder, Leander, follow them, but he wordlessly trailed behind without prompt. As Niah and Roah disappeared behind a covered doorway, Niah’s _who is that_ clear before Roah’s answer lost to its fall. Leander then passed through the doorway tapestry, allowing glimpse of them skirting around the crammed furniture leading to the back garden.

Their huddle dispersed, Karim spoke up as he neared. “As long as we are able to speak freely before the king, it will all do just fine.”

“At least for today,” Dedue said, cautious as ever. “Within reason.”

Dimitri offered his congratulations. “That you shall.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Karim seemed bashful. “I did know that one.”

He held his tongue for instinctually correcting the formality. If Karim were to succeed before the courts, he best acclimate for every scrutinizing appearance. “Let us proceed.” He named Karim’s new stipend, detailed his duties as representative and produced an iron badge engraved with the Blaiddyd seal. “For the guards at the main gate until they know your face. Soon you won’t need it at all.”

“That eases me, Your Majesty, it is another honor to bear proudly.” Even through Karim’s conviction, the weight of his new position bound in passing the badge from hand to hand. It duly shone in the light. “I will not break upon it.”

“You’re flexible, and will not be easily broken.” Dedue assured. “Everything else can be taught.”

“Willing to learn, Your…” He fished for the proper title. “And I suppose I have Kosey to mend me, hm.” He introduced his partner, on light feet they presented from nowhere by his side, only tell of their approach due within their arms held a squirming bundle. He nudged the baby’s cheek. “I’ve you to come home to, my wages are good, and the work honest, it is enough for me.”

“Don’t fret, I’ll guide you.” Kosey hummed in response, their attempt at a bow halted by outright fussing. “That meant you too—oh. Gods, you were just settled.”

“You won’t have to attend court every day. Only the first and last of the moon. Your schedule will be dictated by its course…” Dimitri’s concentration broke as the baby began to sniffle in earnest.

“Look what you did, can court not have my love longer?” Kosey thumped the baby on the back several times. Their eyes met. “You can hold him if you like, it be like our very own blessing, is that not how it works?”

So small and fragile. “Ah. It’s not a good idea.” He crossed his arms, both hands molded into his sides fists, his palms all the emptier.

“It can’t get any worse.”

Dedue saved him. “Haven’t you strong lungs?” And he gathered up the baby with such ease it drew breath from his own. Rocked in perfect comfort, the baby’s face drifted into contentment.

“Why,” Karim said. “You’re a natural. To work?”

Though his gaze tarried at the baby cooing in agreement, Dimitri obliged and carried on.

When they stepped onto the cobblestoned path the sun almost as warm as Roah’s smile, though evident on his face he cannot help to ask if he enjoyed his time spent together.

“I had much fun and Niah’s the best! We, we played tag it. I never got to play before but she showed me how and Leander played with us.” Bright brown eyes gleaming, Roah practically skipped ahead, and Leander, truth burning the tips of his ears ruddy, kept pace. Roah spun on his heel, a quick touch before he darted off. “You’re it!”

Leander humored him and Dedue laughed aloud, this beautiful sound a once selfish part of him held close, covetous. “Not too far now.”

He hummed as he watched, recollecting brown hair and ribbons, the easy laughter of childhood. “They get on well.”

“No wondering where he might have gone off. And a much better playmate if need be.” Roah had evaded Leander’s chase a few more steps before he became the target. Dedue’s gaze turned distant, thoughtful. “Between the two of them, Karim will have the hardest acclimation.”

“You are having misgivings? How unusual.” He elaborated. “It’s not like you to fret a choice once you’ve made it.”

“Nothing like that. It is the truth. Vega was beholden to a cause and championing so fiercely when he’d scarce begun, he might find himself lost sight of when begins the true fight.”

Hollow and cold, his stomach flipped over. _El_. In a voice outside himself, perhaps he responded. Perhaps not. Beyond the voices who held worse words for all past he’d traversed which time and memory splayed and recurved, at present Dedue hovered in the way he managed to tether propriety and caution by any means, means which positioned him a step ahead, blocking view of all else. His breath steadied.

“When we left I saw Karim with Vega, he will be listened to as well.”

Eventually, he found his eyes. Steady. Worried. “We could ask for no better.”

“I was not speaking of that woman but of you.”

They were alike. Or at least he liked to believe so. Held onto it even. When grief might stall the breath of the world to a serpent’s coil against his heart.

It was Dedue’s voice which called him again. Not by name but with all sincerity. “You listened.”

“I hear you now.” He ground his teeth. Nodded. “Karim is humble, refreshing but mild.”

“He will toughen up.” Dedue affirmed as they two resumed their walk. “And I tire of dishonest men.”

They came to a busier lane, the bustle of people crackling against his senses. Roah scampered ahead.

“Careful!” Leander tugged him backwards and Roah yelped, flash of light in the near collision.

Dimitri rushed forward, Dedue not a step behind, and Leander’s words of _no harm done_ half drowned in the hammer of his pulse as he kneeled next to Roah.

“What, to him mayhap—why would you do that?!” A woman’s voice cried. “My skirts are singed. Fancy cruel scheme of a pinch purse.”

Indeed soot-singed, burnt linen and wicker clung to her frame in an odious perfume.

“Ma’am, please. You’re making a scene,” Leander said.

“I’ll make what—ma’am? Just how old do you think I am?!” Her words a nocked arrow let fly, lop-sided basket dangling from her arm.

“Me? I-I’m a squire at the garrison we don’t do any age learning there, ma-miss.” Fist to abdomen, Leander bowed in a jerky motion. “I meant for no incident, miss, he’s just a little boy.”

“One who can cast hellfire.”

Dimitri stood after he checked him over, unharmed if not shaken by the scare. “I believe you’ll find your gold undisturbed.” Then, not unkind to Roah who shrank into himself. “Enough games for now.”

The woman patted down her skirts, clinking coin a balm. “You’ve given us both affright.” Her voice softened. “He’s no thief… oh, sis is fit to roast me for spoiling dinner.”

They all stared back at the dead-eyed trout on the cobbles, fallen in the commotion with its wrapping scattered to the breeze. Roah scooped up the fat fish in both hands and hefted it into the broken basket. The cloth covering slipped off, a boule loaf tumbled to the ground.

Dedue gripped Roah’s shoulder. “ _What do we say_?”

He bowed in a straight-backed dip. “ _My apologies, I’ll_ recompense.” 

“Recompense?” The woman repeated. “Aren’t you proper, but I’ve an apothecary to mind.”

Leander stepped forward. “Please I insist, I can survive on garrison rations for a week, it was my fault really miss, if I hadn’t frightened His Highness you’d be less…” He floundered for a word. His face had only just returned to a less incriminating level of blush.

The woman’s face flickered through a series of emotions. As with most, he cannot read it. “Your Majesty.”

“It’s Dimitri. I insist.” He attempted a winsome smile, however ill-suit. “You mentioned an apothecary?”

“Yes, apothecary and tea room! But I could not, King Dimitri.” Her gaze flickered to Dedue. “The Heather and Hyssop. Far enough from the tavern I’d say, course you don’t frequent taverns, but you allow it by my person or the smoke trail, if you wish bid follow.” And as she strode away her skirts swished, nary a trace of smoke in her path.

“The Heather and Hyssop is your store,” Dedue remarked. “I cannot recall seeing you there before.”

She cast him a rather odd look. “You’ve been there before, I would like remember you.” She laughed to herself. “My sister surely would, Sir, um.”

A weighted pause. “Dedue.”

“Solana.” Dimitri heard the frown in her voice as she led them along a scant distance from the market square to a narrowed street. They stopped before an even narrower shopfront, only signage an intricate drawing of heather and hyssop leaves floating inside a vulnerary bottle. Solana relit the shop lamp and unlocked the door.

The Heather and Hyssop held shelf upon shelf of dark green and amber bottles, baskets of desiccated herbs he couldn’t name in such state and earthenware pots. The tea room consisted of a table set for a generous four.

“Calluna, I’m back.” Solana called upstairs, and, the response muffled, she flourished to the rows of medicines and remedies. “Isn’t any royal apothecary but what do you require today?”

Dimitri inhaled floral and spiced scents. Green and fresh they all settled into a blend tickling the edge of his nose. He repressed the urge to sneeze. “I have need of eye drops.”

Solana cleansed her hands and tied on a heavy half-apron from behind the table counter. “What are you mending—is your affliction dryness, overmuch tears, weakness?”

“The latter.”

“I see, I know what I’m looking for now.” She gave a considerate hum. “For recompense Your Highness, if you are willing to help me find a glass bottle thereabouts would suffice.” She gestured to a cabinet behind her. “Big green leaves, small star-shaped flowers.”

Roah peered over the high table, his eyes eager in skimming the shelf. “There, that looks the one!”

Solana’s hand hovered in her perusal before his instructions made clear. She plucked up the bottle labeled with small purple flowers. “Aha, a fine job. Very helpful.” Both their smiles waned as she shook the bottle. Empty sloshed against the sides. “Well, to work. I’ll make a fresh batch.”

She hefted earthenware in her arms, set it on the table and he watched as she scooped several portions into a polished but dented iron pot. “There’s the leaves, now for the fresh water.”

Roah, arms folded onto the table as he stood on tiptoe, attempted look into the bowl and Dedue lifted him onto the edge of the high table counter but cautioned him to sit back as Solana poured hot water over the leaves to steep.

“Like making tea.” Roah’s nose scrunched up as the steam wafted over them. “But it smells funny.”

It was not a pleasant scent, too herbal and green.

“The smell dies down as it cools, and then we add the gel.” Solana put away her supplies and fetched more, a tiny glass cap among them. “I’ll decant it for you after it cools a little but it isn’t safe for use until quite cold. A good Duscur wind could do it, or a bit of ice magic.”

Roah didn’t return her smile. “I cannot do that.”

At this change in demeanor Solana faltered. “O-oh.”

“You need not,” Dedue said, firm. “It will cool on its own.”

“How about for being such a good helper, you pick one of these.” Solana lowered a sweet-smelling basket full of pressed round candies, odd label bearing depiction of a soup pot. “I’ll wrap it for you.”

“Go ahead,” he said, urging Roah along. “Can he not eat it here?”

“My drawings need work.” Solana giggled. “Surely I hope not, less the castle hasn’t a bathtub. Then I’ll find something else.”

Ah, not candies then.

“Soup or a bath, in a way are they not the same,” Dimitri added as Roah hopped off the counter edge. “That suits him fine, get him to scrub behind his ears.”

To his surprise, she laughed as well.

In a method of pours and vigourous stirrings, she placed the completed eye drops and a single glass cap before him. She explained its use. “Is that all, King Dimitri?”

The greater portion remained. “Yes, though I’d like to purchase the batch in full.”

Solana responded with a slow blink before she gathered herself. “King Dimitri, that much would spoil before you reached by halves.”

“Indeed, he might surpass your expectations,” Dedue affirmed, quiet smile lingering most in his eyes.

Roah piped up, his treat crinkling in enthusiasm before Leander saved it from him. “I can try some!”

At that, he amended. “As appealing as triple the going rate were, I’d rather spare you the trouble, darlingest of Roahs.”

“But I’m your only Roah.”

“Yes, you are.” He paid her in coins and Solana looked up in confusion, her palm glinting gold.

Roah bowed. “Apologies about your dress.”

She broke her stare at him and smiled back. “They’ll mend. But you need not pay this much. I-I did not tell you the price.” She looked to Dedue but found no respite there, he as pleased with each one of Roah’s smiles.

He waved a hand. “For your efforts, they are worth it.”

“My deepest thanks. Should I not always remember the day I caught fire and met royalty, or the future of United Fódlan looks like me?”


	2. A Show of Strength, Garland Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief violence this chapter, also implied sexual content which occurs after, "Clean, warmed by deed and company all told..."

With the war long past ended, hunger moved as another impetuous beast, flesh scarred in desperation entirely of its own motive, caring nothing for peace or the supposed fortune of victory. The greed of men, how did one grapple with an incorporeal enemy so prolific? Not a foe struck down, pending cohort of corpses made regret in time, but perhaps in the moment embodied best in the dull, uninspired machinations of Lord Conand. Stalling for his own merits came to a dreaded end upon his behalf alone, yet as all court bore witness to Dimitri’s signed verdict upheld in favour of the parish, his expression writ an untapped font of duplicity.

And so Dimitri drew a procession of knights, he among them, to Conand territory as surety of the land’s proper concession by oversight. If nature would not cease its inclination then law may attempt its meagre salve. Yet salvation demanded penance.

For within and out the clamorous throng of Fhirdiad proper as their company followed Lord Conand and the priest’s separate caravans by carriage, Dimitri only recalled their parting from Roah.

A moment’s isolation in the castle hall free from prying eyes, they had each knelt in turn. Dedue had hugged Roah tight wherein he might release him once the assurances made for minding Leander. But of Dimitri’s part, Roah had held him ever faster at his addition of being good for his lessons. If reason evaded Dimitri, danger had not as Roah begged for why must he stay behind.

Roah’s brave face adorned as armor at their departure still tugged his heart, a great comfort shared in Dedue faring much the same beside him as horse’s hooves cantered a steady rhythm. A few days at worst. The reminder soothed little. “What I wouldn’t give for this rendered unnecessary.”

Dedue agreed, sat forward in flicking the curtain aside for a glimpse of passing landscape, a greened smear in his turned periphery before the curtain settled again, leaving them in the muted lighting, fine motes there and gone.

Roah, surrounded by people in the castle yet quite alone. With little hope he found playtime in the castle’s smattering of children who held him in strange regard. An emptiness pained and familiar skewered his thoughts. And of their friends and Inner Circle, their children were a distanced crop of newborns. There forced his tongue, moved to speech.

“Adopting Roah, loving him I’ve no regrets but I wish him not so alone, without friend or family. I can’t help to imagine him without us.” Such keen loneliness, never in neglect but present all the same. How the time he were parted from his father and step-mother seemed an epoch. “Even if I know it the right course, must it hurt so, to be parted.”

“It isn’t what I wanted either but...” Dedue flinched but took up his hand and he squeezed back, measured in his own form of reassurance. “You must bear it, as much as I.”

“I know he should not have come with us, yet.” Despite all, somehow the difference lay beyond him, where days passed without sight of his darling boy. “I want to spend more time with him. I do not wish him to feel neglected.”

With his free hand, Dedue rapped his knuckles against the carriage and called out for a trot. The carriage slowed. At his questioning look, he elaborated they might withstand an earlier rise if boarded dry.

“Since when do you care for horses?” Dimitri nudged against him until they were scarce separated, felt more than hearing his rumbling laugh.

“I want to return to our son with all haste.”

The words cheered him, under one accord where many wished divide. “We should make time for a carriage tour, so the people might see us together and come know who looks after them,” he mused. “Perhaps start with a hamlet outside Fhirdiad.”

“As nice as it would be to travel together, I worry for his curiosity in a new place. How he, we will be accepted.” He cleared his throat. “I do not want him to be fearful or stamp out his curiosity altogether.”

“No. I wouldn’t want such an unacceptable setback.” Somehow they must find a balance. Such dreams would never come to pass if they were not to strive and sacrifice now. “When that day arrives, we will travel wherever we please.”

Dedue’s face slipped from an impassive mien. “Such an outlook, what am I to do in the face of it?” Ah, there it was. Carved in the light and caught in half-moon shadow the curve of a dimpled smile.

“No, carry on as you were. I like it.” And then Dedue hid his burgeoning expression, the column of his neck a clarion call where he kissed its mantle, the fabric skin-warm. “ _I love you_.” In the language of Duscur, open and soft, were his affections in kind, were the better of distractions, as the sun rose and fell in its turn ever onward.

Needed and necessary indeed as they slowed before passing through the Conand outskirts. Far beyond the long shadow of the parish church, Dimitri stepped down onto balding grass. Damp earth clung to his tread as they met Lord Conand in the lowland. Flanked by his men, the parcel wore a striking resemblance to Conand itself. And Conand was as much a right coarse bastard of a land as its steward.

Wasting no time, they a combined party of their own knights, monks in grass-stained robes and tentatively reformed mercenaries proceeded through the field. In the distance, the crumbling tower watched over their progress. Sore in the landscape were abandoned campsites, a few with derelict rounds of ash their center. Roundabout patches of muddied slush as if a tread path faded into worn-out grass. Dimitri posed a question to Dedue in a tone meant for he alone. The rocky earth was dark, but was it worth tilling?

“If those who live on it are willing.”

“Willful, more apt.”

Yes, that seemed of the right description as Lord Conand nattered on, his stride easy. Again, a vacancy where once might house an encampment. No doubt bandit cabals, their fires like stars come to earth, middling without wonder on the horizon for menacing civilians.

Very willful.

The land was marked by paces, the demarcation recorded.

“Yes, very good. We look upon our neighbors with gladness.” Lord Conand said and as his moustache quirked with each word, all his men wore a similar bedevilment. 

“The land belongs to the church now. Find elsewhere to house your men, is that understood?” In no instance of court mentioned the land used as extended demesne and with the omission Dimitri’s patience stretched long near threadbare. Some schemes were an empty glass.

“Your Majesty.” He bowed in recognition but rose with a flicker of doubt as his men cried out for their boss extending board within his own home. Bolder still without reprimand, their outcry turned to din, demanding their fair share.

For a moment Dimitri was left without words. He stepped nearer, voice low. “I could commend you on driving a band of thieves to honest work, but that would be an untruth, though I scarce blame them with you as example.” Neither unkind nor welcoming, he smiled and proposed a game. His case made, here and now he would break the cycle of the strong trampling the weak. “You are fond of a bit of sport. A duel, first blood named winner.”

Dimitri turned, half-expecting how his call would be answered, and when agreement came he nodded. “Choose your weapon.” He whispered to assuage Dedue’s furrowed brow as behind them Lord Conand demanded a duel of swords. “I know his type. Regrettably.”

“You had better.” Dedue’s mouth was a flat line. “Once he’s guided along to rightness that he might see it as his own idea.”

“Yes, exactly.” He reached out, a surge of roguish energy coursed through him in time with the rasp of unsheathing the sword at Dedue’s hip. “By the blade then. If you please.” But Dedue had cast his face aside, however something terribly interesting beyond his scope he didn’t miss the gleam of his eyes as he spoke of their intentions. “Upon these terms, so they may know the words you are held to are your own and I for the church.”

“Agreed.” Lord Conand readied his blade in no empty gesture.

At once, the tang of their blades clashed. Measured, steady. An echo of almost strikes, parry and thrust not quite the song wrought familiar memory. The blade tip deflected course from an exposed neck. A slice of red. Lord Conand yielded, one hand clasped against his ear as blood seeped between his fingers.

“The church will be arbiter of their fair share. Should they extend work to your men, they will be under their management entirely.” His sword flecked red, its gleaming silver only returned to Dedue after Dimitri himself cleaned its edge with all care, sorry to sully it. “If you trespass onto this land without permission it will be marked as an act of treason.”

Collar dark, Lord Conand sheathed his untainted sword and acquiesced.

“Here. We’ll look after you.” A monk approached Lord Conand, extended their hand with a cloth to staunch the wound. “We might find a place for them to till on our own, Your Majesty.”

Perhaps he’d cut too deep. Not yet, not yet learned how to achieve results without bloodshed. For now allowed their battle enough for what might be owed in mending greed. One day.

* * *

Though they had spent the rest of the afternoon establishing the start of a stone fence, a border from any chance of doubt, Dimitri shut his own within the confines of his mind. The sun’s descent reflected red in the road’s twin stagnant trenches carved by wagon wheels. Each step pitted by the uneven ground, he and Dedue walked to their room at the inn.

It was a quiet road, their steps a solid beat. A great concession to stand beside him, mayhap beyond the throes of selfish so he reveled in it. No better. Derisive, he repressed a snort for the greed branded within himself. All matters not according to plan, a needling itch took its place.

Alone together Dimitri might set each worry free or loose them upon the tip of his tongue. “I was rash, over hasty.”

“Lord Conand’s ear is by gossip and display enough for the entire town so they might always remember where trouble leads.” The weight of his gaze laid heavy, voice neither condemnation nor condonation. “If he finds a duty to oneself again, there will be none which risk to rally.”

Dedue’s devotion had not gone unpaid, to the end. To love his unkind parts. Of which were many. Their shadows same of which on the ground, long and intermingled. To see all of their tomorrows and ask for more.

Silence was its own language. Nothing more, nothing less. Beyond their understanding scope, he yearned for a tongue which might speak gentler, finding instead by new means methods the people could respect in time.

A fair pace away, a few children played in the dirt on patchwork kneed trousers, their rowdy commotion slipping to idle curiosity. Slack-jawed with exempted malice, they stared as he hailed them. Once, Dedue had said he was a fascination. At least one of the children waved back at him before dragging their playmates towards the call of a disembodied voice. It can’t be changed, he’d said.

“You scared them off,” Dedue said as Dimitri lowered his arm.

He sniffed. He could neither confirm or deny the portrayal of his expression. It simply escaped him.

Snuffling horses bedded down no doubt, the stables were near enough to the inn. Rousing their entire company on a whim no matter how desired set aside, they proceeded up the inn’s staircase to their room.

If only the shut door sieged all thoughts of Lord Conand, of upstarts and uprisings, of collusion with the church. Oh, Dimitri trusted the Archbishop with his life and more, in that regard among his amassed followers yet, unflagging against every burden upon him such trust extended there alone.

But here, just here, where they were unaccompanied by expectation and the trappings of figurehead for the first time that day, arrived a slow reminder as they were. Dimitri leaned onto Dedue as Dedue leaned upon him. Bolstered by their entangled arms he breathed deep, undeterred by the mingling scent of dried sweat.

“Are you sore at all?” He pressed a kiss once against his jawline. His crest bore the brunt of their toiling and such exertions though infrequent at times required tending. Or sweeter exertions.

“Come the morning, but I’d not say it now.”

In this way, he could soothe. He ought draw a bath. “To the bathhouse, then?”

Clean, warmed by deed and company all told, there was little of interest in the supper brought to a small table within their room. Instead, their knees brushed beneath its surface while he ate by force of habit. Ill-maintained habit but habit the same. Dedue by contrast picked over his food as they talked.

“Let us skip dinner,” Dedue said, blunt and a trace wicked in nudging the plate of boiled grey aside.

“How very unlike you. But how shall you keep up your energy?” He tutted, rising for a more pleasing throne in his lap.

Settled there Dedue stated his intentions received outright, doubly found answer enough in exchanging kisses so welcomed. One perfunctory kiss was not often caliber enough deter time for, to himself. A lesson not learned easy mightn’t ever stick but by and by he managed.

Dedue’s lips tanged sweet not by flavor but the subtle sting of alcohol. And that too faded lost, burnt off to a heat between them. Dimitri cupped the back of his head, shorn sides against his grazing thumb, back-and-forth, velvet fine. “To bed?” He stepped back, not far, and confirmation turned startled huff of a laugh as Dimitri’s hands affixed in a solid grip so he lifted Dedue, chair and all, in carrying them to their destination.

Flinging aside the thin bed curtains, the frame creaked with their combined weight. So they might test its durability. Pared down from the obstacle of clothing, hands found purchase in proximity, entangled, and Dedue at once carved an insistent path. His mouth its own brand, lovely like this, lashes fanned silver shadow over his cheek, clean-shaven and smooth.

Given no quarter, Dimitri’s hands curled against the headboard. His heartbeat had done many a thing, roared and quickened, drowned out all other senses for its march, moved him by its volition, but beyond all which were the sweetest, all trailing softness, all paths eminent to testing his own restraint. But retained within his grip was a headboard rung, broken from its row of soldiers. No use in subterfuge. Dedue laid against the waver of his stomach a pleased kiss, half hum and amusement.

Wriggling away, the traitorous bed shuddered again after Dimitri fetched his harness. “This doesn’t seem entirely sound.” But he hovered over him, undeterred as ever with he an equal match and his coveted reply was as gentled as the kiss he pressed against scarred knuckles. “Can I have you?”

“If have you any restraint, you always will.”

“Oh no, you are far too precious to me.”

Only in one regard could save in proving him wrong. He pressed his nose against Dedue’s neck, inhaled the clean scent still clung to his skin. Many the years with him, unlike all shadows which trailed him, no, as natural as his own in time merged in their coupling.

“Gods, I love you.” In Duscur or his native tongue, Dimitri repeated, mouthed against his bared throat, how each pleased him, every word, any sound he would want to hear. Who need know it only he.


	3. Stalwart and True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some brief sexual content at the start.

As daybreak upon daybreak crossed the horizon after their return to Blaiddyd Castle, so too returned its routines and restraints—a pleasant bind under the cover of this night in particular. Arms overhead, his gathered wrists bound in chains, wrapped in soft fabric prior of Dedue’s insistence impeded their heavy cold weight against his skin.

“It will hold,” Dimitri assured at the doubt crossing Dedue’s features as he took in his handiwork. “We’ve a sturdy frame this time.” 

“Are you certain? It has never failed us before but…” Propped up on one arm, he trailed off as his handsome face neared closer, testing the length of chain before drawing away, fingertips brushing the ornate scrollwork. “That is to say nothing of the gold I left behind in Conand.”

“You are too kind, Dedue.”

“Perhaps so.” Dedue grazed his side, sliding his warm palm against the ladder of his ribs.

Skin buzzing with the touch, though out of reach Dimitri attempted a kiss. Mercy came upon him, a quick peck then Dedue’s fingers, their texture known well held in his rough palms. Spared kindness, sentiment welled up within him, with warmth, with desire for each deepened affection.

“Dimitri, I want—” Dedue froze, knocks insistent as ballista fire assaulting their door.

“Papa, Dad!” As the bolts protested the doorknob clicked in its futile turn, Roah’s voice extended into plea.

Dimitri cleared his throat, tried for even and steady as he slipped free with an inelegant tug while Dedue rolled onto his feet. “We’re here, Roah.” The latch tried again.

“Hold a moment.” On stockinged feet Dedue stepped down from the bed dais, nightgown donned. He cast a backwards glance.

Finished shimmying into linen pants somehow crammed into the crevasse at the foot of the bed, Dimitri grunted in acknowledgement. Decent and all accoutrements shoved into a nearby chest, he exhaled, replication of an impending fight matched for the singular dread which led Roah from his bedroom in the middle of the night.

Dedue ushered Roah inside while at hall’s end, the approaching shuffle of guards were dismissed so they might return to their post by the firm shut of the door.

Wide-eyed, Roah’s arms were full of his favourite stuffed bear yet he made ever more room in embracing Dedue’s leg, _Papa, I’m scared_ muffled into the fabric.

“You are here, with us now.” Dedue rubbed his back. “Roah, what happened?” Silence. “Could we sit and gather your thoughts about it?"

It was a warm summer night but Dimitri added another log to the fire. Chasing away the flickering shadows, he joined by Roah’s side on the couch cushions. Barrier to that which lingered.

Roah summoned up his bravery. “I had a bad dream and it chased me here.”

“A monster? You’ve bested and outrun it. It didn’t get you.” Dimitri offered. “Roahs are terrible snacks—do you want me to tell it to leave you be?”

“But you killed it last time.”

Ah.

Dedue’s smile lifted at the edges, flitting focus back to Roah. “I believe what your Dad was trying to say is, you’ve nothing to fear anymore, the monsters are gone now.”

Roah scrunched into himself, voice scarce above a whisper. “It was no monsters. Men chased me but they’d no faces.”

Dimitri exchanged a glance with Dedue. Roah’s nightmares had quelled in time since Duscur but it seemed they returned in frequency with their recent departure. Poor judgement of a mind against their son cleaved heads from shoulders in times past. For that, he’d no remorse.

“Did you see any such thing while we were away?”

“N-no.” Roah shook his head.

“Are you certain?” Dedue asked as he sunk further into his side.

A small nod.

“Very well,” Dimitri began. “Just know I will- we will always protect you. But you should be in bed.”

“I’d not sleep in it.”

“The hour is late.” Dedue ran a palm over his curls, gentled and reassuring. “Let’s go back to it and find out.”

“I don’t want to go by myself!” Roah cried out, stunning him into silence. “Please, don’t make me.”

“…We can make the journey together, does that suit you? You’ll be tucked safe and sound in your bed—”

Softer now, he protested. “Please, let me stay with you.”

They crumbled under such a rousing defense.

“Only for tonight, understand?”

Though as own fair warning, Dedue mouthed the words _three nights in a row_ as Dimitri stepped up and walked over to the dais to remake the bed. Only at Roah’s worst frights, such an occurrence wouldn’t happen again as time wizened. Blankets downturned and an extra pillow added, Dimitri returned to Dedue’s baritone joining Roah’s sweet lilt in a calming song.

Dimitri climbed into bed, assuring safety before Roah clambered in next to him, stuffed bear alongside. Dedue followed and as one they tucked Roah in, said _I love you_ , and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Dimitri’s mouth caught a bit of bear fur yet Roah’s reply of _I know_ encompassed all trials at once as he settled.

In due course they had their own share of nightmares, in wartime and peace, tentative as it perched at times, for none might have seen what they had and not. Some fears were best left unspoken but for Roah his slumber meant everything.

For Dimitri, he’d go without.

Roah’s breath evened in sleep, Dimitri shifted slow lest he succeed in disturbing his peace. He studied his face, fire-lit lashes, his rounded nose and the scar against his cheek. That such love could exist for one small person, within him no less, might redeem him by turns, some form of redemption little by little in care.

Dedue’s hand found his over the blanket, a comfort, his most cherished connection bid him rest before following suit. Shadows lengthened and deepened.

Not worth the risk of a flailing nightmare, his mind wandered not through brambles and labyrinths, but to the stitched pauldron of Roah’s stuffed bear digging into his back. Of his own father after his dying breath stormed as tempest through his mind, leaving behind only vicious lies. A scant dual things he remembered of the truth of Father. It had always been the time spent together which meant most. Nary a cruelty could refute that.

Morning tincture tasting of melancholy, the bitter herbs of childhood memories simply just, as the sun crested the horizon.

* * *

In angled bars of warm light, dust and dander floated across the floors swept clean already by stable hands. One of which had gone so far as to guide Aster from her stall but Dimitri halted further help. In fitting her with a thin summer’s blanket he used the distraction well. Perhaps haunted still in the manner of the deepest loves turned to poison.

“I’ve missed you.” He brushed over her forehead, starred patch at its center winking in, out with the motion. Aster whickered in response. “We’ll go for a long ride, would that suit you?”

With no particular objections Dimitri readied his horse. Despite their separation, time wore his methods intact. The shuffle of movement, the deep animal scent drawn in each breath, the routine. Chamomile, his favored hunting dog kept to his good side, and while quite eager on the hunt, today proved for leisure. She a welcome companion, he fed Aster half an apple, the other tossed to Cammy where it was gobbled up in an instant. Even the click of Aster’s teeth against the bit in her mouth were as familiar a comfort. From far away, the sound of hearty laughter, heavy armored footfalls and life. Beyond, the promise of outdoor air, solitude and the thin greenery of the hunting grounds.

“Your Majesty!” Leander’s voice hailed without form though a moment later with Roah behind him he hovered in the stable doorway. “Pray forgive the interruption, His Majesty wished know your whereabouts.” He glanced to Aster and shuffled out of Cammy’s path to Roah. “Report you were in the stables.”

Dimitri gave this news his full attention. “Here I am.” He wound the lead tighter, an absent gesture of taut leather against his knuckles. He’d not reveal overmuch of Dedue’s worry. The scope, the depth of it. “Is that all he required, he needn’t see me?” Certainly one missed breakfast not caused him spiral? He couldn’t be sure. Roah giggled as Cammy snuffled at him in greeting, her tail a waving banner. “I will be taking a moment in the hunting grounds.”

“I’ll deliver the words by me own mouth, Your Majesty,” Leander said, drawn into a deep bow. Unnecessary. Leander looked after Roah well. Little by little might he ease the formalities between them. Leander’s broad grin accompanied his enthusiasm, intent on Roah and their departure. “You’ve a keen eye, Your Highness, let us away.”

“Hold a moment,” Dimitri said. “Roah if you’ve taken breakfast would you like to join for a ride?"

“Yes!” Roah, quite fond of the idea pressed forward with a bravery seldom afforded save by night with his stuffed bear in tow.

“I’ll await your return with all speed.” Leander needn’t tarry after his return before the stable doors like a skulking thief yet he left before Dimitri could make it known.

Dimitri held Roah so he might pet Aster, sweet whinny accompanying his touch. “You’ve a steady hand, she takes well to you.”

“I like horses.”

Though he committed a grave mistake in setting him down to earth, for now Roah wished his footing assured in the stirrups by himself, Cammy seemed beholden to Roah’s affections as she hovered round him. After a stepstool and a sturdy bucket, Roah clambered before him in the saddle, though Dimitri couldn’t help to support his back as he righted himself proper.

“Hold tight to the pommel.” Certain Roah held fast, he instructed further. “Dig your heels.” Roah endeavoured another try and Dimitri nudged Aster into motion. “That’s it.”

His morning blurred together, away and alone. An hour or more spent on the sealed balcony, named so for the heavy and cumbersome door, easy with his strength and guaranteeing the quiet which to parse his thoughts endured and mired by United Fódlan, its people, the court. All with their constants.

At present, such faded in Roah’s delight. No, he’d enough of time to himself.

Songbirds added their melodies to the nature around them, verdant despite its paucity. Deeper into the hunting grounds, under the boughs the sun warmed his skin, soothing rhythm of hooves another song while Roah pointed out plants he recognized. His spirits lifted.

If they were in agreement, he old enough for it, nary affright as he sat astride his horse—perhaps Roah liked a pony of his own. Outings becoming a recurrence he and Roah partook, a memory made, near loosed his tongue. If he were remembered well.

Instead, his fears led to Roah’s own. “Did you sleep sound, have good dreams?”

How it settled him, hear tell of Roah’s dream, his imagination spanning to confound and amuse as they ambled through the woods.

“All of that in one night, you’ve quite an adventure.”

“Yes, what of your dreams, Dad?”

Rare dreamless sleep but a reprieve, in truth, he’d no consideration for his own dreams, had he one to spare. Precedence came for every obstacle, there seemed no space for _I_ instead of _we_ , no room for wishes. Save one. “It seems I don’t remember, you’ve a much clearer memory than I.” And so he couched his consideration for a not quite dream into affection. “Look over, Roah, is that a hare?”

He made to gesture to the greyed shape but Cammy darted ahead, given chase. Dimitri called out for her to heel to no avail as she bounded over a log out of sight. Fingers jammed into both corners of his mouth, he whistled. Roah clapped his hands over his ears.

He laid a hand on his shoulder. “Chamomile, get back here!” With a grunt, he dismounted from Aster, reins in hand as he led them closer to where she disappeared. Sharp barks were muffled by the underbrush. “Do you see her? Cammy!”

Roah cupped his hands round his mouth like a makeshift horn. “Come back, Chamomile!”

Nothing.

In the distance birds took wing. Dimitri, in the midst of quelling his concern for Cammy, for time guaranteed her return to the castle, he yielded his explanation to a rustling bush.

Debris and dirt stuck in her wiry coat and nothing in her mouth, Dimitri shook his head. “Your quarry evaded you.” Fond, he plucked a leaf from her fur. “You ruffian. We should return for Aster’s lunch, perhaps join her.”

“We have to eat hay?” Roah’s troubled expression bore such disbelief as Dimitri swung into the saddle he dropped a quick kiss onto the crown of his head.

“Hm, no.” Aster’s easy gait carried them onward. “The kitchens will have something better prepared.”

All agreeable, he led them towards the castle, shaded by the sun.

“Papa didn’t make breakfast either, I like his food better.”

“Well, your Papa is a bit busy to make meals all the time.”

“I still ate it.” Roah hunched his shoulders. “I told Papa too, at breakfast. I think he’s cross for you not showing up.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No…I guessed.”

“Ah, did you now? Mayhap he will forgive me. I was unfit company.”

“I like your company now.”

“You do?” Even such a small admittance tilted his voice into surprise.

“Thank you for letting me accompany you, Papa doesn’t like horses. ”

No, he did not. Under the long shadow of castle spires for their return within its fortified walls hung paintings attesting otherwise. Dedue on noble steed, while majestic and virtuous but for the truth—he’d no trust in an animal prone to spooking, instead placing such trust in himself.

What good a held tongue, Dimitri confessed it availed him, for they must travel again and Roah’s bravery were no small matter. “I missed you a lot when we left. We both did. But you must understand, we do good for others when we well look after them.”

“A good for everyone else, I know.”

“Yes. I am so very proud of you.” How his distaste for leaving him had dredged childhood memories anew, their solitude and perhaps joy, for his dearest thoughts lingered no matter how festered in time to his friends, companions, sister. What had Roah in lack? “Please don’t forget I love you.”

“I know, this much.” He threw his hands out to the side in a broad gesture. 

“I don’t think you could measure it.” Safe and bracketed by his outstretched arms, were it an amount beyond all measure indeed.


	4. Reign in Love, Verdant Rain Moon

On a windy day—pleasant chill of a vigourous breeze the first harbinger of autumn—closer to Verdant Rain Moon’s end than he preferred, Dimitri opened the door to The Heather and Hyssop, entourage consisting of Sylvain whose presence crackled against warm memory as they stepped past the threshold.

“This is the place, huh?” Sylvain skimmed the tincture and bottle lined shelves along each wall. “Can’t be worse than a dagger. _Oh hello_.”

From his wheedling grin Dimitri followed its path to Solana, arms full of a tea service tray and eschewing Sylvain’s leer. “Your Majesty—Dimitri, how can I help you? Did the courier not fetch your eye drops this month?”

Dimitri spared her the harsh words come to mind not upon her account nor direction, burr of irritation smoothed by running his tongue over teeth. “I should like thank you again for they arrived safe and sound.”

“In person? No call for that,” Solana said, the clatter of saucers following her approach. “Though I accept your thanks, my sister is still convinced I robbed someone.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” He returned her small smile and cast a glance to the canisters behind her. “My son wished for tea to accompany his special breakfast.”

“What would his Highness prefer? He strikes me as a single origin fellow and all of our stock hails from Duscur.” Her wares set on the counter, she held a tin box aloft. “This is rather mild and pairs well with honey or sugar. Most children like it, though I’d wager it more on account of that sweetness.”

Though enticing, the prospect of tea and jam cake for Roah was broken by Sylvain’s banter, tone akin to one long past laid to rest, or so it had seemed. “I’d doubt it as sweet as you, my lady.”

She tilted her head, all coquettish demeanor to the fledgling action replaced by confusion. Perhaps he’d lost his touch while in Sreng, for Solana blinked back. “I don’t understand, explain.”

“Oh uh, because you’re sweet too,” Sylvain floundered, scrubbing a stilted hand through his hair.

“I see now.” Her mouth pursed. “What did you require?”

Before Sylvain could further choke on boot leather Dimitri cut in. “He needs nothing.” Pity taste lay beyond him in practice. “Do you have cinnamon tea or a blend with?”

“An adventurous palate!” Solana cooed, setting out a few more tins, gnarled roots and bark drawn onto the labels. “I suppose I could blend them myself, would that suit him?” She grabbed the plain tea as a base.

“Could you use a stronger tea, with ginger?”

She hesitated but set to the task, shaking the completed mixture into a tin. “I’ve never met a child with such taste. Mayhap it is too bold but send my regards to Sir Molinaro.” Most assured in her voice Dedue made for far better company, to which he might also agree if only for his own bias, however she then averted her gaze. “A rare knight indeed to be gifted by the king himself.”

Ah.

“Without doubt none more better or deserved… and a rare boldness indeed I should imagine.” Words sour upon his tongue as he received the tin from her, Dimitri cleared his throat. Her honesty which might beget honesty, insightful as it may be cloaked his sincere hope Dedue well-pleased with his gifts, with his discretion. Exceedingly. For all he possessed, Dimitri withheld the notion in divulgement of their marriage, though ever denying such laid beyond him. But her conclusion lay in disparity and abiding by omission bent his stance, however slight. “But let it not be, for might I seek your expertise in spirits?”

Solana hummed in consideration. “My apologies, Dimitri. Would you like to sample our offerings?”

In truth he cared little for wine. Or mead. But he acquiesced for Dedue’s preferences, and as Sylvain sat with him at the little tea table, neck craned while Solana withdrew to the cellar, he craved one steadfast sip.

No. A hearty glass for Sylvain was none too discreet in unbuttoning his shirt collar further. _If only he needn’t a single informed opinion._

“Cease your roguery at once.” He scowled further at Sylvain’s careless posture with his arm slung over the vacant chair so it veered nearer.

“I’m having a bit of fun, lighten up—oh.” His expression sharpened. “You like her.” It wasn’t posed as a question.

“Not the way you appear to.” Without shame Sylvain bore his scrutiny. “And I do like her, leave her alone.”

“Whatever you say, Your Majesty. But I am only being friendly.” Sly and slow, his grin spread. “As a sign of goodwill, can I not extend diplomatic relations to Duscur?”

“Enough of such nonsense.”

“Hey. I’ll make my intentions abundantly clear this time, no hard feelings.”

Of that his doubts were many.

Solana’s return marked as good an excuse as any to imbibe. Commenting on each bottle their vintage, she drank along with them and he appreciated the gesture. Yet no matter how he made attempt to detect a single note of purported earthiness in a whiff all came to no avail. Out of his depth, he nodded along, improved and hinged upon Sylvain’s commentary.

Another released cork, another shallow and confounding puddle. He bit the inside of his cheek. This glass at least smelt subtly different. Though its burning path traveled down all the same.

Sylvain raised a single eyebrow towards Solana, overshot charm for predictability. “Why don’t we get to know each other a little better?” Sylvain leant back, eyes glinting with a fire not ascribed to drink in the slightest. “I can’t picture you’ve lived in Fhirdiad your whole life, trust I would have noticed.” Sylvain channeled his attentions to Solana in the full as he stretched with an air of casual indifference. “What’s your story?”

“My story,” Solana repeated. “I haven’t much of one at all to tell. We traveled a lot as a family for years and we were merchants of a kind.”

“Perhaps you’ve traveled to Gautier?”

“Never been there, Sir…?”

“Gautier. Margrave, actually. Now I’m a real heel. ” Sylvain groaned, introducing himself properly as Solana offered her name in return. “That’s a shame, Solana, you’re missing out on some prime sights, like bountiful snow and scrub grass.”

“The furthest we journeyed was to Enbarr. Once word of more fighting reached us, I and my sister, well, we headed here. Suppose we could have stayed. The rumour men of Duscur fought beneath that blue flag weren’t unfounded.” She smoothed her hands over her apron, quiet for a spell. “But it was for the best, I’d rather keep to my own.” She uncorked the third wine bottle. “Why do we not try this special one?”

Dimitri following suit in swirling the contents round, tasteless film clung to the sides of the glass to a meager mouthful unable to stave a more pressing question. “You were in Enbarr?”

“Even in the distance the palace was quite a grand thing, but we’ve never experienced it up close. When it’s powerful hot even at the outskirts, we much preferred Fhirdiad.” She sipped at her glass. “It’s been nice to make a home.”

“It’s no good to exist by yourself.” While a familiar spice grazed Dimitri’s senses, Sylvain honed onto his own version of pertinent. “But if you ever change your mind, while I’m here allow me the honour of offering you a tour of the castle?”

He swiveled to pin Sylvain with a glare.

Backtracking and spilt between two unimpressed faces he stressed his point. “Not the guest quarters, there’s a party in a few days, would you like to join me? Join us, I mean.” He slung back his wine in one pull, none too discreet in how his eyes watered. “What is this exactly?”

Solana balked. “I—I wouldn’t want to impose.” She watched as Sylvain covered his cough with a fist. “It’s mulled Duscur wine, best for cold nights warmed but it serves well cool. Perhaps you’d keep warmer during those Gautier winters.”

“I find other ways to keep wa—”

“This is the one, I much prefer it.” Dimitri interjected. He couldn’t knit to any worthwhile ends but to stay warm in another way…it must do. He thanked her again, remedied Sylvain’s hanging question with his own offer. “Though I’d not blame you if it were impossible, pardon him.” _As I do often._ “I would extend an invite—you do not have to come unless you wish it, much less as a date, but you are most welcome. And may arrive with yourself alone.”

“Never been in front of a royal audience before and as a guest no less,” Solana winced. “I should think they find me too frank or forward, why, I’ll be chased away.”

“Certainly not.” He flicked a meaningful glance to Sylvain. “Come as yourself. It is enough for me.”

Her smile was sincere. “Then I would quite like that.”

* * *

Even at the early hour the castle kitchens were a bustle. Air heady with steam and the yeasted lift of preparing baked goods, Dimitri led Roah beyond boiling pots and toiling cooks to a cleared counter reserved for they two alone—an important task set before them indeed.

Today marked Dedue’s birthday.

“This is your gift to Papa,” Dimitri said, pulling down a battered cookbook from the shelf. “Would you like to choose his breakfast, or shall I?”

“I will!” Roah leapt to his side, eager in pouring over each recipe. In the end, he pointed out a pair of recipes. “Dad, what about these, which one tastes best?”

One for a stir-fry, the other for a type of breakfast cake, he could scarce recall any of the ingredient’s ancient flavours much less their meld. “Let’s prepare both with lots of love and discover together.”

To that, Roah was most agreeable as he dragged a stepstool closer to their workstation and Dimitri read aloud the listed ingredients, heart full. _Add salt to taste_. Chopping hard fruits and vegetables, tending to the hot pots and pans—at least, in this way, he himself could prove useful while Roah gathered ingredients. Though the counter held a veritable bounty, as Dimitri sliced several carrots with all care, he noted a few missing key ingredients, along with his most important chef.

He took stock, compared and contrasted the list with the spoils. Roah still hadn’t returned. Perhaps he’d not known which turnips and cabbage to fetch. Perhaps he ought fetch him. 

An unfamiliar but sharp voice trailed from the larder, scolding and rude.

“ _Caught thieving round the royal stores?”_ Dimitri repeated to a bent back man, the vermin spun at attention though its fear were nothing before Roah cornered, wide-eyed and clutching a small cabbage. “What last words to utter before I cut out your tongue.” From his periphery Roah skirted a path towards him, and as he passed Dimitri patted the top of his head. “That’s a good one. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Matter dealt with to his satisfaction when Dimitri returned, Roah had his nose pressed to the cookbook. His eyes were squeezed shut. Bits of carrot stuck to his hands, but he’d progressed no further than collecting his chopped carrots to the bottom of a pot. Lifting his head, they tread through a few preliminary steps somber, subdued. _By the Gods give me voice._ It’s when a preoccupied slice rent the cutting board in two Dimitri could bear no more.

“Sometimes we must shoulder burdens so they might seem of no protection at all. Do not forget what we set out to accomplish. The best meal ever.” He tipped the salvageable shredded cabbage into the pot as well. Gentler now, he continued. “Pay no mind. For Papa, we can’t fail now—why do you not crack the eggs?”

One by one they slid into the earthenware bowl. “Good job, but let’s take away the bits of shell.” Shells were often an unpleasant texture and he fished them out with a careful spoon.

With the praise Roah’s vigour returned to a chant of _stir, stir_. A cloud of flour puffed over them both, not a profuse apology tumbled past his lips but a giggle as pure as star-shine.

Cooking together warmed Dimitri anew, thawed by every stuttered approval of Roah in his growing excitement, in his flare of fire magic set to boil his wield of a copper tea kettle. In the scent wafting from the completed stir-fry cloistered by a domed lid for safe travels. He peeked into the oven, urging Roah a closer look to their last creation.

“I didn’t expect such a result.” Billowing and lovely vertical from the oven, he pulled the cake, its slow deflation into a rumpled if not evenly browned disc sent Roah’s face fall in turn. Perhaps he shouldn’t give into his son’s every whim but he called out to a passing kitchen maid for Albinean berries, her return marking the last of their greenhouse reserves. A sugar dusting later, their completed meal sat atop a rolling cart.

“I’m sure your Papa will taste all of your love.” Dimitri pushed the cart along, Roah careful next to him.

He looked askance at the covered dishes. “You added yours too?”

“An extra helping, yes.” He overheard big paws a steady patter against the carpets leading to their wing. Cammy took a liking to Roah extending beyond forest jaunts. Now she could scarce be without at his side, tail wagging, not without her own little motives for a slipped boon or two. “We’ve at least attracted the local hounds.” He granted her a gentled scruff through her wiry coat before he knocked twice upon the door to their quarters.

In the burgeoning dawn Dimitri had pressed his dearest fondness for Dedue against the juncture between his shoulder and neck, that sleep-warm skin languishing his departure. Then abed and quite awake, the particular peace of their quiet words were left for its own new contentment.

Dedue lounged by the hearth and made to stand, setting aside his embroidery, glass beads winking in the light. _“What’s all of this?”_

 _“We made you breakfast!”_ Roah cried in rapid-fire Duscur, at once alongside the cart in order to remove the cloche. _“Let, let me show you—happy birthday, Papa!”_

Tea service, stir-fry, and the pancake arranged on the cart, Dedue’s awe graced his tone. “ _All of this, for me? Come here._ ” He knelt for wrapping Roah up tight where he might be hugged in return, the cloche still held awkward at his back. _“I love you, thank you.”_

 _“You haven’t eaten it yet.”_ Roah’s muffled speech cleared as he pulled away. _“Oh, and Dad helped too.”_

 _“Did he now? I owe him my thanks as well.”_ As Dedue stood and kissed his cheek, Roah giggled beneath them, at once to the task at hand. _“Let’s set the table.”_

Roah dawdled until Dedue addressed him directly and he admitted he wished to take breakfast abed, trays at the ready on the cart’s second shelf.

Dedue most agreeable—after the salient point of contention ameliorated by the laundress’ continued service—he settled atop the blankets, several pillows propping him up against the carved headboard. Roah climbed the little stair to their bed dais with teacups in hand at his behest, he himself in charge of the warmed plates and teapot—they each kicked off their boots and joined him.

And then, Roah began to sing, his sweet voice come to shy stand-still to their clapping. Overwhelmed, Dedue led them in prayer, six palms open until conclusion.

Cammy had occupied herself near the hearth but as the servings were doled, she padded closer. He made a warning noise, daring her put another paw upon their quilts and she relented.

They two watched with baited breath as Dedue took first bites dish by dish. There came that contented smile. _“It is delicious.”_

Roah beamed, all the more bright as Dedue commented upon the flavours, the unique tea, the efforts gone for him.

They each would do so again, one hundred-fold. And though Dimitri couldn’t taste their meal, a certain pleasure gained in their enjoyment, Roah’s plate near clean in dedication.

Apparently, Roah could no longer abide Cammy’s silent pleas and indulged her patience, feeding her food from his plate.

 _“Off with you,”_ Dedue scolded. _“Clean your hands.”_

Roah scampered off as he bid, Chamomile still chomping on her reward.

Alone, Dedue took up Dimitri’s hand, their fingers laced together as meant. _“I cannot thank you enough, this was a wonderful gift.”_

 _"Oh, this was_ Roah’s _gift.”_ He leaned into him in return, felt more than seeing his intense gaze. _“All him to be sure.”_

 _“Dimitri, what are you implying? Really this is enough.”_ Dedue insisted. _“I could not—no more paintings.”_

 _“That had been a mistake not easily repeated.”_ He sniffed, turning to face him proper and conceding after a beat. Dedue was a great knight at the time, to be fair. _“It is not a painting, what of your itinerary today?”_

 _“Stubborn.”_ As Dedue met his gaze, he leaned in for a sour little kiss. _“I’ve a midday meeting concerning treasury adjustments. That is the whole of pressing matters.”_

Roah returned, hands held out as Dedue inspected, ensuring they met his approval. As they finished up their meal, Roah’s eyelids drooped lower.

As tempting as it were allowing him drift off, Dimitri spoke. _“It’s about time for someone to start their weapons training for today. Let Leander collect you.”_

 _“I’m sleepy_ , _do I have to go?”_ Roah’s head lifted, half nodding off.

 _“You’re sleepy?”_ Dimitri tutted. _“All the more reason, you’ll be renewed once you overcome a few maneuvers.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


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